


i bid thee

by Cygrus



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Character Death, Drabble, F/M, Forgiveness, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 05:55:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16886904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cygrus/pseuds/Cygrus
Summary: Lotor finds himself alone with Allura in an unfamiliar space.





	i bid thee

**Author's Note:**

> for crystal @sugarsculls 
> 
> prompt: "do you believe in destiny?"

“Do you regret our meeting?”

He had spoken without thinking, an unfortunate habit he’d picked up in her presence. They stood together on what felt like the brink of existence itself, unfamiliar celestial bodies hanging in the skies, a faint wind without source playing at loose strands of hair. A glow illuminated their bodies, outlining them in pinks and purples, and beneath their feet was nothing but an endless void of stars, yet they did not fall, did not move. They were still, solid.

Allura, a pillar, gazed not at him but straight ahead. She seemed forlorn, solemn, and his question had caused a change in her perfect features. Lotor watched with a certain affection as her lips pursed and her brows twitched. It took several moments before she looked at him, and when she did, it was as though she couldn’t believe he was there, yet she didn’t seem—happy, just shocked, perhaps angered. Her eyes were vibrant in color, but Lotor thought them unusually dull. It was then that he recognized her exhaustion, even though she hid it so carefully, just as a leader should.

But there was no reason to her restraint. They were alone here, wherever ‘here’ might have been. When he’d spoken, his voice had come in the form of an echo, as if he stood in the trenches of a cave. This realm was without end, however, expansive, foreboding. He wondered how they’d arrived here and searched for forgotten memories, finding none, but the way his muscles—ached, he thought—told him that this was real. Blood coated the inside of his mouth and had begun to dry on his skin, painting ugly blotches over darkening bruises. His armor had become a mess of dents and scuffs.

Testing a hand, he found that, by some miracle, it still worked. He curled clawed fingers into his palm and recalled with a sickening twist in his stomach that he’d used this hand to rip and gouge at Allura, tearing skin from her body. She watched him wordlessly, but Lotor saw how anxious she had become, a razor’s edge against a backlight of stars. It was as though she was readying herself for another attack. Lotor’s mouth pulled into a fine line when he saw where he’d maimed her. Left shoulder, bare and bloodied.

In a quiet, almost childlike voice, he said, “I didn’t mean to.”

Allura changed with his words, relaxing by a merit. She said, in a flat tone, “I know.”

“Forgive me.”

Allura closed her eyes. “No.”

A sharp, breathless laugh left Lotor. A bitter smile curled itself onto his mouth as his claws bit into his skin. “No,” he echoed. “No. I don’t want you to.”

They stood several feet apart, perhaps a calculated distance on Allura’s part, one that gauged Lotor’s speed and the amount of energy he had left, which was honestly very little. He hadn’t the strength to move, and so he didn’t attempt to breach the distance between them, knowing that if he did, it might not end well. Instead, he turned away from her, his chin lifted and his gaze seeking out some rhyme or reason to this madness.

There was none. It was so vast and empty that it made him feel small by comparison, like an insignificant presence set before gods, yet he found it to be undeniably beautiful. A world without walls; a world just for them. They could wander for millennia and never find their way out. It almost sounded like a gift, but he knew that it wasn’t. It was the same as a prison. Hell. Death.

“Where are we?” he wondered aloud, glancing Allura’s way. She hadn’t moved; Lotor thought she looked on the brink of collapse. Concern for her health burdened him, but she wouldn’t be glad for it. “What is this?”

Allura was indignantly silent, her eyes unfocused, an unfamiliar grief latent in them. Lotor’s brows drew together and wary confidence forced him one step forward, pain forgotten as he moved towards her. To his surprise, she didn’t try to warn him away, nor did she look ready for a fight. Against better judgement, he took another careful step, then another, until he stood directly in front of her.

She gazed up at him and said nothing still. Lotor, who had never been one to stick his hand into the lion’s mouth, raised his fingers to brush at her jaw. Allura allowed this. When he cupped her cheek, she allowed that, too, her eyes closing and an uneasy sigh escaping her. Lotor felt his breath—though he wasn’t sure he was breathing—hitch in his throat.

Touching her wasn’t a new experience, and yet he felt bashful in that moment. They’d shared several intimacies before, all precious, and Lotor could recall each one with overwhelming clarity. Shy smiles and flushed cheeks and quick glances exchanged while in the presence of others. Those months had been different from any he’d ever experienced. He’d felt as a boy might: infatuated, curious, bold.

And in those days he’d allowed himself to fantasize about what life might have been like, had the past never happened. He would have been just a child, holding onto the skirts of this woman much older than him, hoping she might spare him a glance or, had luck been on his side, a smile or two. His mother—his wretched, pitiable mother, her life be damned—would have taken him by the shoulders and apologized to Allura for her son’s brashness, and they might have laughed off the antics of a child together.

He would have grown admiring her divine beauty and those wits she possessed, the integrity of her soul influential to her people, to him. Had he been older, he would have sought her hand in marriage, but is sure that she would have been wed to a suitor far more appropriate before such thoughts even occurred to him.

Allura deserved a grand wedding on Altea, amidst her family and friends, surrounded by the mist of mountains and the fields of flowers. Lotor would have held Honerva’s hand during the ceremony, and Allura might have kissed his round cheeks out of love for a boy she thought a younger brother. And he would have flushed and beamed and perhaps even wept, his favorite person now married.

Such dangerous ideas came to him again in a new form. Had things been different—had he been more honest—perhaps they would have wed. Lotor wanted to think that fate had been kind enough to him already, allowing them to meet and love and hate across the vast reaches of space and time. He was lucky to have known her.

“I wish,” he said, his tone a gentle timbre, both hands now holding her cheeks, “that I’d done better by you.”

Allura’s face twisted with guilt. She gripped his wrists and pulled them away from her face, but did not let go of him. She was vibrant against the black that had begun to seep its way into this place. He savored her touch, something in the back of his mind warning him that there was little time left. _Odd_ , he thought. _What a familiar voice_.

“You hurt me,” she said, trembling, threading their fingers together. “You hurt so many.”

“I would give it all up to stand beside you again.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

Lotor gazed at her, silent, and gripped her hands tightly in return. “No,” he admitted.

The wind in this realm picked up, but it was as though he was an entity separate of it. Lotor felt no breeze, only heard its howls and saw how it affected Allura, whipping at her hair, nearly knocking her over. She seemed panicked then, tears pooling in her eyes. Lotor felt his blood turn to ice, and before he could say anything, she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Lotor could do nothing but hold her as she began to—sob, so quietly that he thought his mind might be playing tricks on him.

“Allura—”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered into his neck. “I didn’t— Let me have this—”

Reduced to another helpless cry, Allura’s hands curled into his hair and gripped as if he kept her anchored. Hopelessly lost, Lotor cradled the back of her head and let his eyes close, allowing the moment to last until she decided they were done. He found himself without words. He’d never been one to ease another’s misery—and often he’d been the one to cause it—but he wished that he’d taught himself better, if just to allow her some peace of mind.

And Allura wept openly, her grief so severe Lotor thought she might have lost someone dear to her. Something caught in his throat—a cry, perhaps, as realization set in, as confusion gave way to relief. He wished he hadn’t noticed so soon, for now that familiar voice became more urgent as each second passed, calling out to him, urging him to follow it.

They had to go.

Sound drained away from their forms. Lotor said, “We fought.”

“—Yes.”

Smiling to himself, Lotor buried his face into her shoulder. When he tried to draw in a breath, he noted morbidly that he couldn’t. There was a terrible pain in his stomach, and yet that pain didn’t bother him, as though it were nothing but a phantom.

“Allura,” he said, “you won.”

Quietly, “I didn’t mean to.”

“Of course you meant to.” He laughed into her hair, almost delighted, inconsolably saddened, and felt how she tensed against him. “Because there was no other choice.”

When he worked up the strength to pull out of her embrace, he couldn’t help but admire the tears that stained her cheeks. He wore a somber smile and held her hand loosely in his own, his thumb stroking her knuckles. She seemed confused, distraught, and when she spoke, all he heard was remorse. “I killed you.”

“I’ve been dead for years already.” He kissed her palm, lingering. “You merely set me free, Princess.”

The wind picked up again as she lowered her gaze. Letting go, Lotor looked at the space around him, thinking again that it was beautiful. He only wished he could have shared it with her for longer, but destiny was a wicked thing.

“You should go. You’re needed elsewhere. Do with my corpse as you see fit.” He heard how his voice trembled and turned his back to her, thinking goodbyes would be made less difficult this way. “Bury me, burn me, leave me— It hardly matters.”

In the distance, there was a light that beckoned him. He sensed someone familiar beyond it, someone he’d known, someone who had been awaiting his arrival. Last they’d met, they’d stood on opposite ends, bitter resentment given shape between them. Now, however, that man called for him. A strange calm took Lotor.

“I’m not alone here,” he said, meaning to reassure Allura but knowing his words were meant more for himself. His eyes burned when he looked to her again, brimming with tears that threatened to spill over. “But _she_ is. May I ask you to do something for me? See to it that my mother joins us here. I think—I think she’s suffered long enough.” He paused, slowly adding, “I think we all have.”

With hands clenched at her sides and fresh tears still openly falling, Allura’s presence had changed. Guilt became determination; determination became drive. She nodded, once, and then breathed out, the pink glow beginning to fade from sight. Lotor watched, awestruck, and recognized for the first time what Allura had made him feel, something he’d never felt before.

Hope.

The universe was left in good hands.

Before she’d gone completely, Allura approached Lotor again, smiling now. She was beautiful; his heart warmed. Taking his face into her hands, she said, “You asked if I regretted meeting you.”

“And do you?”

“No,” she answered without hesitation. “No, never. I only regret that we hadn’t met sooner.”

She went, and so did he.

**Author's Note:**

> *hands trembling* what do you mean of course i can write short drabbles haha like it's hard haha


End file.
